


We Are Gonna Fall If You Lead Us (Nowhere)

by ChristineQuizMachine



Series: Loved and Lost [2]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bisexual Cisco Ramon, Cisco Ramon Needs A Hug, Daddy Kink, Emotional Manipulation, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Possessive Thawne, Power Imbalance, Secret Relationship, Sexting, Spanking, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2020-10-26 16:03:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20744921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChristineQuizMachine/pseuds/ChristineQuizMachine
Summary: Snapshots from Cisco and Eowells' relationship. Serves as a prequel to "We Sink."





	1. May 2013

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so, back when I was plotting out ‘We Sink’ for the 2019 DCCW RarePair Swap, the story was going to contain a handful of smutty scenes. However, I ended up cutting out said scenes because, while I felt like they helped illustrate Cisco’s assertion that his relationship with Eowells was “super inappropriate and unhealthy,” they weren’t entirely essential to the narrative, and I had to prioritize writing the important stuff in order to complete the story by the deadline. The unfinished scenes went into my WIP folder, and I mentioned in the end notes for ‘We Sink’ that I would probably publish them separately.
> 
> Well, I’ve had some time to hack away at those scenes, and I think I’m at a point where I’m ready to start showing them to people. This will actually be the first time I’ve published full, actual smut instead of non-explicit sex, so…fingers crossed that I did an alright job, I guess?
> 
> Once again, the title comes from the song “We Sink” by Chvrches. Also, PLEASE read the tags; this story is about a TOXIC relationship, so don’t come in here expecting kitten whispers and tickle fights, okay?

_ “I have to go to my meeting now. It would be lovely if I had a present waiting for me when it was over.” _

Cisco read Dr. Wells’— _ Harrison’s _ —text a few more times. Then, he sent the video before he could chicken out. And once he saw the notification that it had been delivered, he felt like throwing up.

Harrison had probably just wanted a sexy picture. He was in Starling City for a conference, and a photo would have been one way to tide him over until he and Cisco were together again. But Cisco had gone all-out and sent him an X-rated movie. In the video, Cisco was sprawled out on his bed, naked, stroking his cock with one hand while pounding a toy into his ass with the other. He’d chosen a thick silicone dildo from his collection, one that was almost too big and too rigid for his personal taste, but it was one Harrison had seen (and they’d used together) before, so Cisco thought it would up the “audience immersion” factor. And while he pleasured himself, tugging on his dick and pressing the toy against his prostate, he moaned and keened like a porn star, occasionally whimpering Harrison’s name in that breathy, somewhat babyish way that he knew turned his lover on. The video was a few minutes long, and it ended with Cisco spilling all over his fist and then smearing the mess onto his belly.

(He’d been careful to keep his head out of frame, just in case the video somehow fell into the wrong hands and subsequently went public. A random person would be hard-pressed to identify Cisco Ramon solely from the barely-visible freckle patterns on his skin, but Harrison would surely recognize the bite mark on his left thigh—he’d been the one to put it there, after all.) 

Was he going to win an AVN award anytime soon? Probably not. Was it a good effort, considering the fact that he’d never even so much as sent a dick pic to his significant other? Cisco had thought so. He’d even MacGyvered together a camera tripod out of an old selfie stick and a few other odds and ends, for heaven’s sake.

Still, once the video was in Harrison’s mailbox, anxiety set in. What if Harrison didn’t like it? What if he thought it was tacky? What if he was annoyed that Cisco didn’t want to show his face on camera? Now that Cisco really mulled it over, he had no idea what kind of porn Harrison was into…if Harrison was into porn at all. They’d only been “intimately involved” for a few weeks, and—aside from the aforementioned toy use—all the sex they’d had so far was fairly vanilla.

Cisco was so nervous that he set his phone on his kitchen table and then went over to the entertainment system to re-organize his DVD collection. It was the only thing he could think to do to prevent him from checking for a response every five seconds. 

Finally,  _ finally _ , Cisco’s phone buzzed with a new message, and he sprang across the room to grab the device off of the table. The message was indeed from Harrison, and he’d sent a picture. With his heart pounding, Cisco opened the photo.

He was greeted with the sight of Harrison’s cum-covered cock, still half-hard in the man’s hand. He’d obviously just finished jerking off while sitting on the bed in his hotel room. There was a text message accompanying the picture:

_ “That video was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I almost didn’t make it back to my room. Excellent work as always.” _

Cisco exhaled in relief, warmth blooming all over his skin. Dr. Wells— _ Harrison _ —had liked the video. No, he’d  _ loved _ the video. Cisco threw himself onto his couch and cuddled his phone to his chest, a shivery giggle escaping from his throat. The thought that he’d commanded his lover’s attention from 600 miles away made him feel powerful and adored and so very, very happy.

He got ahold of himself long enough to send Harrison a reply:

_ “When you get back to Central, I’d be happy to do a live reenactment.” _

Harrison’s response came through about a minute later:

_ “I’m counting the hours, my beautiful boy.” _

Again, Cisco giggled. Hartley Rathaway may have been Dr. Wells’ “guy,” but Cisco was Harrison’s “beautiful boy.” How amazing was  _ that _ ?


	2. August 2013

Everything in Harrison’s house, from the appliances to the artwork, screamed “modern” or even “futuristic,” but the bed was surprisingly simple: king sized-mattress, mid-rise frame, and a solid headboard that extended upward by a couple feet. The most decadent thing about it was definitely the sheets, which were pure silk and probably cost more than Cisco’s entire Ikea bedroom set. Also decadent was the memory-foam pad that lived on top of the mattress; it ensured that Cisco could crouch on the bed on all fours for an hour without getting sore.

Not that he’d ever done that. Neither he nor Harrison had the patience necessary to wait that long.

Last time he’d been perched on Harrison’s bed in that position, he hadn’t been naked; he’d been wearing the outfit that Harrison had picked out for him. Well, that wasn’t quite true—Harrison had given him two options to choose from. Both featured a black embroidered polo shirt, identical to the ones that the college-aged S.T.A.R. Labs summer interns wore. However, Option A included crisply pressed khaki pants and tight, white briefs, while Option B was a gray pleated skirt with lacey red panties.

Harrison had told him, right before he left the room to pour them both some scotch, that he’d be perfectly happy with either option, and the choice was Cisco’s. But Cisco had known, from the moment he saw that flash of red in one box, that there really _ was _ a right choice and a wrong one. Sure enough, when Harrison had come back with two tumblers and spotted Cisco sitting on the bed with legs apart and the edge of the skirt pulled up to give the man just a peek of lace, he’d grinned, kissed Cisco’s forehead, and told him that he was _ “absolutely brilliant.” _

(He hadn’t stripped Cisco entirely, even when they got to “the main event.” He’d simply pulled the panties halfway down Cisco’s thighs and tucked the hem of the skirt into the waistband to get it out of the way. The skirt was made out of a heavy cotton and polyester blend, and it had felt a little strange as it fluttered against Cisco’s cock in time to Harrison’s movements, but it wasn’t bad. Just…odd.)

This time, though, he _ was _ completely naked, and more than a little self-conscious under Harrison’s gaze. The plush towel Harrison had laid out between Cisco’s legs—one that silently implored him to try his best not to make a mess on the sheets—didn’t help, either. But that feeling of discomfort began to fade once Harrison reached out to touch him. With a steady hand on his hip to hold him in place and nimble digits dancing down his spine, Cisco could start to believe that he truly was the apple of the other man’s eye. 

“Superb,” Harrison finally murmured. “Just…perfect.” He gathered Cisco’s hair in one hand and pushed it aside so that he could kiss Cisco’s neck. “I hope you never cut this.” He released the hastily-formed ponytail and ran his fingers through it.

“If I promise not to cut my hair, do you promise not to leave another hickey on my neck?” Cisco teased.

Harrison snorted. “That was one time. And it was an _ accident. _ I can’t help it that you taste so sweet.”

“Yeah, well, ya know what’s _ not _ sweet? Wearing a turtleneck when it’s 88 degrees outside.”

“Such a fussy little thing.” Even though Harrison was behind him, Cisco could tell he was shaking his head with amusement. “How will I ever, _ ever _ please you?”

“I just told you what—” Cisco started, but his response was cut off by the familiar click of a plastic bottle being opened. He fell silent and nibbled on his lip, practically trembling with anticipation because he knew what came next.

“Mmmm…maybe I should just give you what you _ really _ want?” Harrison said, his voice calm and casual. He could have been clad in an Armani suit and puzzling over a physics problem at the Labs instead of kneeling on his bed, naked, staring at the ass of a man practically half his age. “ _ Is _ this what you want?” A slick, wet finger was now resting between Cisco’s cheeks.

Cisco swallowed. His words had suddenly failed him (as they often did in these situations), so he just nodded.

“No, no, baby. Speak up.” Patient, with just a dab of authority in his tone; Cisco could listen to him read a phonebook—or a Wikipedia article on infectious diseases—and still get a hard-on. 

“I want you to fuck me,” Cisco managed to say, feeling a blush bloom on his face, ears, and neck. “Please.”

Harrison chuckled. “So polite.” And, because Harrison Wells believed in rewarding good behavior, he slipped a single finger inside Cisco.

Cisco squirmed at the feeling. There was always something so awkward about that first penetration; it simultaneously felt like too much and not enough. It wasn’t until Harrison curled his finger just right that a soft sigh escaped from Cisco’s lips.

“Already singing for me?”

Cisco didn’t respond at first; he wasn’t sure he could form words. But when Harrison added a second finger and used both digits to press on his prostate—firmly enough that Cisco felt a little like he’d been electrocuted—his brain knitted together three coherent syllables: “Harrison,” he moaned. “_ Harrison… _”

Abruptly, Harrison withdrew his fingers, wheeled back, and landed a harsh smack on Cisco’s bottom. There was enough power in the swat that a dull crack echoed through the room, and Cisco actually cried out in a combination of pain and surprise.

“What was that?” Harrison said shortly. “_ Who’s _ making you feel this way?” 

Cisco was immediately embarrassed by his error. “_ Daddy, _ ” he said, wincing. “My _ daddy _ is.”

Harrison leaned down and planted a kiss on Cisco’s back. “That’s what I thought. Good boy.”

Cisco, for his part, shivered in delight. Despite the discomfort, fear, and shame that the sudden spanking had instilled in him, there was something about those two little words—_ “good boy” _—that never failed to make him melt.

“_ Cisquito _ ,” Harrison said, his voice a warning as he snaked a hand underneath Cisco’s abdomen and gave his boy’s cock a firm tug, “the next time you forget, it’ll be _ five _ spanks. But that won’t happen, will it? Because you’ve learned your lesson?”

“Yes,” Cisco managed to sigh. His bottom was still stinging and his chest felt heavy, but he bowed his spine and spread his thighs so that every inch of his backside was on display. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“Of course.” Harrison said. And soon, his fingers were parting Cisco’s cheeks and a thick, blunt cockhead was pressed against his hole. “Now, open up and let Daddy inside.”

It…hurt a little. Harrison usually let him work his way up to three fingers before giving Cisco his dick, and this time, he’d barely given him two before going all-in. The sudden stretch made Cisco whimper and clench the bedsheet in his fingers. But he didn’t ask (tell?) Harrison to stop. He didn’t _ want _ him to stop. He wanted to be perfect for him, and if he couldn’t be perfect, he’d at least be good.

Harrison’s lips were at his ear. “There we go. You’re doing so well. You fit me like we were made for each other.”

Cisco exhaled and tried to relax. He could stomach a bit of pain if it made things better for both of them.

Harrison gave him a moment to catch his breath and then began to move. Slow, shallow thrusts quickly became faster and more forceful, and Harrison found the right angle to make Cisco gasp and try to meet him on every. Single. Stroke. Occasionally, Harrison reached out to pull on Cisco’s hair or pinch one of Cisco’s nipples in his fingers, but mostly, he held Cisco’s waist in his hands to keep his lover steady while he fucked into him. 

“You like that?” he asked, and Cisco could imagine his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. If they’d been face-to-face, that tongue would have been halfway down Cisco’s throat by now.

_ “Yessss…” _

“So tight. You’re _ always _ so tight for me, Cisquito. It feels incredible.”

It _ did _ feel incredible, Cisco thought, though he didn’t say it out loud. He was panting by then, his skin on fire, his abs contracting, and his cock dripping. He reached under himself to take his erection into his fist, but Harrison released one of Cisco’s hips so that he could replace Cisco’s hand with his own.

“Let me…let _ me _ do it,” he murmured, like he was also having trouble stringing together a sentence. “Let me get you off, sweet boy.”

Cisco nodded weakly. Whether it was a matter of control or a matter of ego, Harrison was rarely content to let Cisco make himself cum. _ He _ wanted to be the one to pull an orgasm out of him. And that was fine with Cisco, because—damn—he was good at it.

(_ “Christ, it kinda felt like your palm was vibrating,” _ Cisco had remarked one time, when Harrison had given him the greatest hand job of his entire life. Harrison had just laughed and said that it was a trick he’d picked up over the years.)

Cisco finished first, just like he always did, spilling hot and messy onto the towel while Harrison pumped him with a tight hand. He immediately wanted to face-plant into the bed, but he did his best to keep himself still and steady so that the other man could enjoy a few more moments of bliss. “Are…are you…?” he managed to mumble.

“Yes, I’m almost done, baby,” Harrison breathed, moving his hand back to Cisco’s waist and increasing his pace. The snap of his hips against Cisco’s backside—as well as the blood hammering in Cisco’s ears—almost drowned out his voice. “You can hold out for a little longer. I know you can.”

Cisco wasn’t sure he could. Harrison was pounding into him so hard and squeezing his middle so tightly that it was all becoming too much. He would be sore later. Bruised, even. But Harrison believed in him, so he had to try to keep up. Besides, later on, when he was interacting with Dr. Wells at S.T.A.R. Labs and pretending that their relationship was purely professional, he’d remember this moment and feel hollow without his lover inside of him. He _ hated _ being empty.

“Please, Daddy,” he whined. “Please fill me up.”

_ That _ worked. Harrison came, thrusting a few more times and then burying himself up to the hilt with a loud grunt like he was sliding into home base. He stilled and breathed heavily for few seconds before letting out a soft chuckle and planting one more kiss on Cisco’s back. When he pulled out, Cisco didn’t need to be told to let go of his “Daddy’s” cream—he already knew that Harrison liked to watch the mess dribble out of him.

(He wasn’t sure when, exactly, they’d stopped using condoms. It had just kind of happened, and it seemed odd to go backwards now. He was also too happy with the closeness and intimacy of it to worry about the potential risks.)

“Perfect,” Harrison said, his voice a bit hoarse. “Don’t you think so?”

Cisco nodded, then exhaled. His muscles ached, so he—finally, blissfully—let himself fall forward, burying his face in one of the pillows at the top of the bed.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Harrison quipped. He let out sigh of satisfaction, then lifted up the end of the towel to wipe himself down. Afterwards, he folded it over so that he could clean Cisco up, too.

Cisco lifted his head up when he felt the plush terry cloth swiping between his cheeks and thighs. “Is there a handprint?” And they both knew what he was talking about.

“No. It’s a little pink, but nothing to be concerned about. You’re fine.” He stroked the spot with his fingertips, and Cisco winced. “I know it hurts, but that’s how we learn.”

“Who the heck is ‘we?’” Cisco grumbled. Harrison had finished cleaning him up and pulled the towel out from underneath him, so he reached for the duvet and wrapped himself up in it. “_ I’m _ the one with a sore ass.”

Harrison laughed. “If you don’t want to play rough, you can just say so. But…I think you enjoy our dynamic just as much as I do_ . _” He then got out of bed and walked off in the direction of the bathroom.

Cisco’s face flushed. Okay, the man had a point there. Calling Harrison “Daddy” while they were screwing had been his idea in the first place—just a natural by-product of his ‘thing’ for older men. He hadn’t expected Harrison to be so into it, but the fact of the matter was that Cisco _ had _ started it. And the spanking had come as a natural progression of the Daddy kink. 

Still, just because he was willing to let Harrison take control in the bedroom didn’t mean that he had to go along with everything else without question. When Harrison came back, Cisco said, “Hey, you didn’t tell Hartley about us, did you?”

Harrison raised his eyebrows. “Of course I didn’t.”

“Okay. It’s just…he called me ‘Cisquito’ today, and I wondered where he got that from.”

“Oh. _ That, _” Harrison remarked as he climbed back into bed. He sat down on top of the blankets, his legs together and his genitals lying limply between his thighs. “Well…in the interest of full disclosure…there’s a small chance that he overheard me talking to you on the phone the other night. The fact that he walked into my office right after I ended the call did seem a bit suspicious.”

“Ugh,” Cisco groaned, wrapping himself up tighter. “Perfect. That’s one more thing he can rag on me for. My hair, my clothes, and the fact that I’m secretly sleeping with the boss…”

Harrison snorted. “Hartley’s incredibly intelligent, but he’s…emotionally stunted.” He looked down at Cisco. “And he only puts you down because he’s jealous of you. I hope you realize that.”

“Why would he be jealous of me?” Cisco asked.

“Because, even though you’re _ also _ incredibly intelligent, people tend to like you. You’re kind, you’re charismatic, you’re selfless…” He stroked Cisco’s cheekbone with his knuckle. “Hartley operates on the principle that people don’t like him because he’s smart. But you’re a constant reminder that his intellect isn’t the problem—it’s his personality that people find off-putting.”

Cisco couldn’t help but laugh. “‘Off-putting.’ Yeah, that’s…that’s an understatement.” He was also feeling a little giddy at the compliments Harrison had just paid him.

Harrison chuckled, too. “I know you don’t like him. But he’s still ‘my guy’ when it comes to running S.T.A.R. Labs. I’m not sure I could do it without him.”

Beneath his happiness, anxiety poked at Cisco. There was something that he’d been meaning to ask for a while, and now seemed like a good opportunity to spit it out. “Hey, did you and Hartley…?”

“Hmmm?” Harrison said.

“Were you guys ever…you know…together? Like you and I are?” He swallowed. “You two have always been so close, and…well…people talk.”

“I’m aware of the rumors, Cisco,” Harrison said, tucking a lock of Cisco’s hair behind his ear. “I don’t pay them any mind. Nor should you.”

“I try not to. But still…I was just wondering.”

Harrison sighed. “Well, let’s put the matter to rest, then: I have never had a sexual—or even a romantic—relationship with Hartley Rathaway. We’re colleagues, and I might even go so far as to say that we’re friends. But that’s it.” He looked at Cisco. “Is that clear?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted—that little romp wore me out. Let’s get some sleep.” Harrison tugged at the end of the duvet, and Cisco lifted himself up so that his lover could have some blanket, as well. Harrison scooted up close, closing the gap between them, and Cisco felt the man’s warmth and heartbeat against his back. Their conversation was over, so all Cisco could really do at that point was mull over what he’d been told.

If he was being completely honest, a part of him thought that maybe Harrison’s reassurance about the nature of his and Hartley’s relationship had been a lie. But that was fine, because there was an ugly, petty part of him that _ wanted _ for it to be a lie. He _ wanted _ to have been the one who unseated Hartley as Harrison’s favorite. For all of his posturing and pride, Hartley still couldn’t compete with Cisco’s exuberance, easy-going attitude, and awesome hair.

Cisco still had the photo of Harrison’s spent, cum-covered cock saved on his phone—the one the man had sent in response to that masturbation video that Cisco had made for him back in May. And it was only one of several pics and clips he had accumulated over the last several months. Whenever Hartley was being _ extra _ dickish, Cisco had to resist the urge to whip out his phone and show off his collection of X-rated content. It would have been so satisfying to watch Hartley’s arrogant expression turn to one of abject horror.

Hell, when Hartley was being particularly awful, Cisco wanted nothing more than to print out a selection of raunchy photos and chat logs, scribble “HA HA HA” all over them in red marker, and dump them on Hartley’s desk. Hartley had no qualms about mocking or putting-down Cisco in front of their co-workers, so why should Cisco have any qualms about humiliating Hartley in return? 

But…he wouldn’t do that. First and foremost, because pulling a stunt like that would probably get him fired from S.T.A.R. Labs _ and _ R.I.P. his relationship with Harrison. He wasn’t willing to give up either of those arrangements for a few moments of smug bliss. But also because, by nature, Cisco wasn’t a malicious person. He’d rather go with the flow and do “the right thing” rather than lash out and hurt someone on purpose.

So he didn’t. When Hartley belittled him, Cisco held his hands stock-straight at his sides so he wouldn’t reach for his phone. And when Hartley told Cisco off for his “unprofessional” way of speaking, Cisco bit his tongue to avoid lobbing any innuendo about how Dr. Wells actually _ loved _ Cisco’s “smart mouth.” He simply took solace in the fact that, eventually, Harrison would put away the chess board, tell Hartley to go home and rest, and then take Cisco to bed.

Hartley could have his and Harrison’s Latin proverbs, scientific insights, and private jokes. Cisco had Harrison’s animalistic growls, moans of pleasure, and whispered terms of endearment.

“Love you, Daddy,” Cisco said, finding Harrison’s hand under the blanket and squeezing it in his own.

Harrison kissed his neck. “And Daddy loves you so very, _ very _ much, Baby. More than anyone else in the world.”

He wasn’t sure whether Harrison meant that he loved Cisco more than he loved anyone else on Earth, or that there was no one on Earth who loved Cisco as much as he did. If he didn’t ask, though, he could assume it was both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I welcome concrit re: my first attempts at actual smut. I also accept compliments, keyboard smashes, and threats to my well-being, so please consider leaving feedback if you’ve read this far! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°
> 
> Also, feel free to hit me up on Tumblr. My main blog is ChristineQuizMachine, while my side blog specifically for fan works is christineWIPmachine. There’s not a whole lot of stuff on that second one at the moment, but it’s pretty new, so I can only ask for your patience and support.


	3. October 2013 (The Ronnie Interlude)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Returning readers: please mind the tags; they may have changed since your last visit.

Ronnie Raymond didn’t usually take Columbus Day off of work, nor did he even consider it much of a holiday. Except for the banks being closed and there being no mail delivery, it was usually just a normal Monday. But with less than two months until the particle accelerator activation date, Dr. Wells had decreed that, except for Thanksgiving Day in November, it would be the only holiday between now and mid-December that folks working on the project were allowed to take off. They were in crunch time, so, barring some unforeseen tragedy (e.g., a death in the family or an illness requiring hospitalization), it was all hands on deck.

In response, Ronnie had suggested to Caitlin that they enjoy a mini “staycation,” just the two of them, as one last hurrah before things at S.T.A.R. Labs got truly crazy—or, at least, even crazier than they’d been since Hartley Rathaway had gotten fired and other team leads had been forced to pick up the slack. And Caitlin had agreed to the idea. They weren’t going to go anywhere, since they had a wedding and a honeymoon to save up for. But the plan was to spend the long weekend away from S.T.A.R. Labs and all of the stresses that their jobs held.

So, of course, on Friday evening, Ronnie accidentally left his phone at work and didn’t realize that he’d done so until after he was home. Which meant driving all the way _back_ to the labs on Friday night (after he and Caitlin ate a late dinner), because he really didn’t want to have to do it on Saturday morning.

Getting into S.T.A.R. Labs after hours wasn’t terribly difficult; his employee ID card opened up the gate into the parking lot and released one of the exterior doors, too. He _did_ have to wait for the front desk security guard to scan his ID and “unlock” the elevators for him, though, and that took a second because the guard was a little more interested in watching a baseball game on TV than actually monitoring his post. But, to be fair, the building _did_ seem pretty deserted. Could he really blame the guy for being bored?

Ronnie rode the elevator up to the sixth floor, where most of the engineers worked, and then stepped out into the hallway, trying not to be bothered by the uncanniness of the dim and empty corridors. He felt especially naked without his phone, and he couldn’t wait to have the device back in his hands. It was a bit of a relief, then, when he speed-walked past the mechanical engineering room and noticed that the light was still on. Part of him wanted to stop and poke his head inside, just to see who was burning the midnight oil, but another part of him didn’t want to rest until he’d found what he was looking for. After all, just because he was happy that he wasn’t the _only_ one in that part of the building didn’t mean he was willing to take a detour. 

_It’s probably just Cisco,_ he told himself. That seemed like a pretty good guess. The guy was a self-proclaimed night owl, and it wasn’t uncommon for him to stay late on Friday nights—even though he apparently had a boyfriend.

At the thought of Cisco’s boyfriend, Ronnie felt himself wincing involuntarily. Not because Cisco was dating a guy; he had no problem with that. But the way he’d found out about Cisco’s beau had been slightly uncomfortable. And it had all started when he’d gotten the bright idea of trying to fix Cisco up with his freshly-on-the-market cousin.

***

**Cisco probably hadn’t anticipated being shown pictures from a Raymond family reunion when he’d asked, _“How was your weekend?”_; he and Ronnie were eating lunch in the S.T.A.R. Labs employee cafeteria, and he’d almost certainly just been trying to make conversation. Still, Ronnie feigned ignorance in order to put his plan into motion.**

**“Oh, this is me and Stephen,” Ronnie said as he scrolled through several photos on his camera roll before ‘innocently’ landing on the picture he’d actually been aiming for. “He’s my cousin on my dad’s side.”**

**“Huh,” Cisco said in response. “Ya know, he kinda looks like Oliver Queen?”**

**Ronnie laughed. “Yeah, he gets that a lot. If he lived in Starling instead of Keystone, the Queen family could probably hire him to be Oliver’s body-double. Stephen’s like me, though: a jock on the outside but a total nerd on the inside.” He paused, then said sweetly, “I think you two would get along well, actually.”**

**“Oh, really?” Cisco said, scooping macaroni and cheese into his mouth. “Maybe we can all hang out next time he’s in town.”**

**“Maybe. Or…” Ronnie started, letting his voice trail off.**

**Cisco paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. “Or, what?”**

**“Or…well, okay, I _might_ have shown him that picture I took of you and Caitlin together when we were at Papa Tony’s Slice of Heaven a couple weeks ago. And…he _may_ have said that he thought you were cute,” Ronnie said. “And…_it’s possible_ that I told him I’d show you his picture and give you his number if you were interested.”**

**Cisco cringed. “Dude—!”**

**“He’s really nice,” Ronnie said hastily. “And he’s got a good job with the city. I know that blind dates are usually super awkward, but if you want, Caitlin and I can go with you and make it a double-date.”**

**Before Cisco could get another word in, Caitlin walked over to their table. “Hi, boys,” she said, sitting down with her Lean Cuisine meal in hand. “I have to tell you both about something that happened in the med lab today, but it’s gross, so I’ll wait until we’re all done eating.” As she stirred up the freshly-microwaved Swedish Meatballs, she said, “Oh, sorry— were you guys in the middle of talking?”**

**“Yeah, you missed Ronnie trying to sell me off to his cousin,” Cisco grumbled, shoveling more food into his mouth.**

**“I’m not trying to ‘sell you,’” Ronnie said indignantly. “I’m just trying to fix you two up.”**

**“With Stephen?” Caitlin said, eyeing her fiancé. “I _told_ you that that was a bad idea.” She turned to Cisco. “Not that Stephen’s not a nice guy. He actually is. But I told Ronnie that you’d probably be embarrassed if he tried to play matchmaker.”**

**Ronnie huffed a breath. Yes, Caitlin _had_ told him not to mention Stephen to Cisco. That was why he’d brought it up before she’d arrived. He didn’t understand what the big deal was. “Oh, come on—you’re not embarrassed, right?” Ronnie said.**

**To Ronnie’s surprise, Cisco suddenly _did_ look embarrassed. “Will you just drop it, Ronnie?” he asked shortly.**

**And, on the other side of the table, Ronnie paused. He was usually good at anticipating people’s reactions to his ideas, so Cisco’s anxiety seemed a bit perplexing. “…Yeah, okay. Forget about it,” he said.**

**The three of them continued to eat their lunch, and their conversation quickly took on a more normal tone. But Ronnie couldn’t shake the feeling that something was now wrong between himself and Cisco. So, after they finished their break and bid Caitlin farewell, he decided to say something. **

**“Look, about earlier…I’m sorry if I put you on the spot or anything,” Ronnie remarked as they headed up the stairs towards the sixth floor. He always made a point to take the stairs after lunch instead of the elevator, and Cisco usually joined him (though not without complaining about it). “I only mentioned Stephen because I really think that you two would be a good match. But if you’re not interested, or you think it would be weird to date someone in my family, I understand. Are we cool?”**

**“Yeah, yeah, we’re cool,” Cisco said. Then, after hesitating for a moment, he added, “And, like, I believe you when you say that Stephen’s nice, but…I’m actually already seeing someone.” **

**Ronnie felt his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Wait, you are?” he asked, stopping completely. Cisco was a step behind, so the height difference between them was even more pronounced than usual as he turned to look at him.**

**Cisco stopped, too, and frowned. “Yeah. Is that really so hard to believe?” His cheeks were a bit pink, and his grip on the banister was a little tighter than it needed to be.**

**“No, no, that’s not it!” Ronnie said, putting his hands up. “It’s just…wow, you’ve never mentioned having a boyfriend or a girlfriend before. Caitlin and I both thought that you were single.” He smiled. “I’m actually really happy for you.”**

**“Thanks,” Cisco said. He was smiling, too, though there was some shyness to it. “And…yeah, we’re keeping things on the DL for now. It’s just…it’s better that way. Plus, he’s a little older than me, so…I dunno, I guess I’m worried about people being weird?” He made a face. “Remember when Hartley was dating that firefighter? The one who kinda looked like Javier Bardem? The phrase ‘daddy issues’ was thrown around more than once.”**

**“I think people were just shocked that Hartley actually managed to find someone who could stand to be around him for more than a few minutes at a time,” Ronnie said, and he and Cisco both snickered. “But…okay, I guess I understand.” He also wondered if maybe Cisco’s boyfriend was still in the closet, and that was a main factor in their need for discretion. “And I really am sorry if I made things weird. I promise I wouldn’t have said anything if I’d known.”**

**“No, it’s okay. And…_I_ promise that, when he and I are ready to go public, you and Caitlin will be the first to know.”**

**“Alright. I mean, I’ve gotta make sure he’s good enough for you, right?” Ronnie made a show of cracking his knuckles. “And I’ve gotta tell him that, if he doesn’t treat you well, he’ll have to answer to me and Caitlin.”**

**“Oh, yeah, he should _totally_ be scared of you,” Cisco said, rolling his eyes. He looked like he was trying not to laugh.**

**“No, he should be scared of _Caitlin_. The worst I can do is beat him up. But Caitlin’s a doctor; she could do some _serious_ damage and make it look like an accident.” **

***

That staircase conversation had taken place in early September. In the weeks since, Cisco had also let Caitlin in on the fact that he was dating someone, but he hadn’t offered any more details. As much as Ronnie hated to admit it, he was starting to wonder if he’d ever get to meet the guy, or if the relationship would end before they got to the point of official introductions.

But honestly, Cisco Ramon’s love life was not at the top of his priority list. In that moment, he was more concerned with finding his phone. He was fairly sure that it would be at his workstation in the structural engineering room. He _hoped_ it was there, anyway—even if he could afford to replace it, he certainly didn’t want to. 

Fortunately, when he popped into the workroom, his phone _was_ sitting on the table near his station, plugged into an outlet to charge. Ronnie exhaled with relief as he scooped it up; he felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. Quickly, he typed a message to Caitlin:

_“Found my phone! I’ll head home now.”_

Caitlin’s response came less than a minute later, just as Ronnie was stepping into the hallway:

_“Great! See you soon.”_

His trek back to the elevators took him past the engineering workroom again. This time, Ronnie actually stopped. After mulling it over for a moment, he decided that he would peek through the windowpane and see who was in there. If it wasn’t Cisco, or if Cisco was there with other people, then he would just keep walking. But if Cisco _was_ there by himself, Ronnie figured that he should probably at least say ‘hi.’ Maybe even sneak up and startle him, provided that Cisco wasn’t currently working on anything super fragile or potentially dangerous.

(That had happened in the genetic engineering lab once. Some idiot had thought it would be funny to pop a balloon right behind one of the doctors, and the result had been a broken $3,000 microscope. Ronnie was fairly sure that the prankster hadn’t been made to pay for the damage out of pocket, but it was still one of those situations in which he’d rather not find himself.) 

So carefully, quietly, Ronnie looked into the workroom. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the light, and then—

_Holy shit_.

Just as Ronnie had suspected, Cisco was in the workroom. But he wasn’t alone. Dr. Wells was with him (there was no mistaking that lean frame and tousled hair), and he was leaning over Cisco, so close that their bodies were pressed together. One of his arms was wrapped around Cisco’s middle, like he was holding him in place, and the other had disappeared up the front of Cisco’s t-shirt. He seemed to be saying something in the direction of Cisco’s ear. 

_Holy SHIT._

The next thing Ronnie knew, he was throwing the door to the room open, so hard that it banged into the plastic stopper on the floor and almost bounced back at him. Upon hearing the noise, Dr. Wells and Cisco lurched away from one another, putting some distance in between them, and turned in his direction. They both seemed startled—Cisco especially.

“Mr. Raymond,” Dr. Wells said shortly.

“Ronnie!” Cisco yelped.

“What the hell is going on in here?” Ronnie asked, trying to keep his voice steady. 

“Nothing,” Cisco replied, far too quickly to be convincing. “I was…I was showing Dr. Wells a blueprint. For the particle accelerator’s vacuum system. I had a question.” He was avoiding Ronnie’s eyes.

“You startled us,” Dr. Wells said. His tone was completely cool and casual, and so was his expression. “Besides the security guards, I thought that Cisco and I were the only ones in the building.”

“Yeah, I guess you did,” Ronnie said, narrowing his eyes at him.

If Dr. Wells understood Ronnie’s subtext, he didn’t show it. He gave them both a tight, controlled smile and said, “It _is_ getting late, though. Perhaps we should all call it a night? Let’s enjoy the long weekend.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s a good idea,” Cisco said, still refusing to look Ronnie in the eye. “I’ll get my stuff together.”

“Goodnight, gentleman. I’ll see you both on Tuesday,” Dr. Wells said. He then made a hasty exit, deliberately side-stepping Ronnie as he left the workroom.

Ronnie watched him depart, incredulous. Was Dr. Wells…was Dr. Wells _really_ going to just walk away from the situation? Did he really think that he could just stroll off like he _hadn’t_ been groping Cisco seconds before? _How_ could he do that?

Dr. Wells wasn’t the only one acting like nothing had happened, though: Cisco was now bustling away at his table, shoving things into a black, worn-out satchel. “Hey, Ronnie, can you believe we’re less than two months away from turning on the accelerator?” he remarked randomly—like he desperately wanted to fill the silence. “We’ve been working on it for so long. It’s almost like when you first hear about a really cool movie going into production, and—”

Ronnie whirled around to face him. “Cisco, are you okay?” he asked.

For a second, Cisco froze completely, his tablet in one hand while he held his bag open with the other. Then, he snapped out of his daze and continued moving. “Yeah, of course I am. Kinda stressed out about how much work we still have to do before December, but—”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

Cisco inhaled. “Well…then I don’t _know_ what you’re talking about.” He zipped up his bag.

Ronnie wanted to grab Cisco by the shoulders and shake him. He put his arms flat against his sides to prevent himself from doing so. “I’m talking about the fact that, when I walked in, Dr. Wells had his hands on you,” he said sharply.

“Look, whatever you _thought_ you saw, you’re wrong, okay?” Cisco said, sounding upset. “I was just showing him a blueprint. That’s it. He was leaning over the table so he could see—”

“That’s bullshit, Cisco!” Ronnie snapped, and Cisco flinched. “He was touching you. And don’t try to tell me that it was just friendly. His hand was under your shirt.”

Cisco was quiet for another second. Finally, for the first time since Ronnie walked into the room, he met the other man’s gaze. “You _can’t_ tell anyone about this,” he said softly, biting his lip as soon as the sentence left his mouth.

Ronnie exhaled. He ran his fingers through his hair, closed his eyes for a moment, and then looked at Cisco again. “This isn’t the first time he’s harassed you, is it?”

“‘Harassed?’ Ronnie, he—”

“Just because you’re a guy doesn’t mean it isn’t harassment!” Ronnie insisted. “And you being bi doesn’t make it okay, either!” He wanted to reach for Cisco, just to touch his arm and reassure him, but he didn’t think it was a good idea. What if he scared him? “You _have_ to report this. Look, if you’re worried that no one will believe you, I’ll back you up. And if you’re worried about losing your job—”

“We’re dating!” Cisco blurted out.

“…What?”

“Dr. Wells and I have been seeing each other for…for a while, now,” Cisco said. He swallowed. “Since April.”

Ronnie stared at him. His stomach was clenching, and he felt a bit dizzy.

“Remember a month ago, when I told you that I had a boyfriend? I was talking about Dr. Wells.” After flashing Ronnie a weak, uncomfortable smile, he said, “Now you get why Mystery Guy and I were keeping things on the DL, right?”

Ronnie continued to stare. He wasn’t sure how, exactly, to verbalize the emotions he was feeling.

“So…like…I appreciate you rushing in here and trying to protect my virtue or whatever, but…he wasn’t doing anything I didn’t want him to do,” Cisco continued. “It’s not like that. Okay?”

Ronnie was quiet for a few more seconds. When he finally spoke, it took all of his self-control not to scream. “Cisco…you _can’t_ date Dr. Wells.”

Cisco raised his eyebrows. “Why not? You and Caitlin both work here, and _you’re_ dating. S.T.A.R. Labs doesn’t have any policies against employee fraternization, so—”

“Caitlin isn’t my _boss_,” Ronnie said. Despite his best efforts, frustration seeped into his voice. “I’m not _her_ boss, either. You dating Dr. Wells is completely different, because he could fire you or end your career if you rejected him.”

“Okay, first of all, _that’s_ illegal,” Cisco said, sounding a bit annoyed. “I’ve got a _huge_ archive of texts, photos, and videos proving that we’re in a relationship. If he tried to fire me just for saying ‘no’ to him, I’d have grounds for a lawsuit. He’d settle it out of court just to make it go away, and I’d be able to retire before I’m 30.” He folded his arms across his chest. “But it’s a moot point, because Dr. Wells wouldn’t _do_ that.”

“How can you be sure?!” Ronnie snapped. “The fact that he’s dating one of his employees doesn’t really make him look like a great guy!”

“Because he _loves_ me!” Cisco snarled back. “You don’t _know _him like I do, okay?! Dr. Wells loves me, and I love him!”

“You—!” Ronnie started, but then he stopped. He took a deep breath. Cisco was the victim in this situation. Getting angry at _him_ wasn’t really appropriate. “Stay here,” he said sharply.

“What?”

“Just…stay here, alright? Don’t leave the labs without me. The whole reason I’m here so late is because I forgot my phone, so I’m gonna run to my department workroom real quick and grab it,” Ronnie said. He was lying, of course; he’d already been to his office. But he couldn’t have Cisco following him for what he was about to do.

“Oh…kay?” Cisco replied slowly.

Ronnie turned around and walked out of the workroom. Once he was in the hallway, he sped up to a trot, and once he was a reasonable distance away, he broke into a dead run. By the time he got to the Cortex—Dr. Wells’ main office—he was so hyped up on adrenaline that he probably would have kicked in the door if it had been closed. It wasn’t, though, so he had to settle for storming in and planting his feet on the linoleum floor.

Dr. Wells was standing up at his desk, holding his tablet like he was glancing over something before turning the device off. The room was meticulously neat, as always, and so was Dr. Wells himself. When he heard Ronnie come in, he looked over at him but didn’t otherwise react. “Did you need something, Ronnie?” he asked. “I was just about to head out.”

Ronnie ignored the question and instead asked one of his own: “So, was getting into Cisco’s pants a factor when you hired him, or did you not decide to do that until later?”

_That_ got his attention—Ronnie was pretty sure he saw him flinch. “Excuse me?” Dr. Wells said. His voice had become quiet and clipped as he stared at Ronnie through his glasses. 

“Cisco told me about you two,” Ronnie spat. “How you’ve secretly been ‘dating’ for months.” He curled his hands into fists. “I was telling him that he needed to report you for sexual harassment, and he said it was okay because you two are seeing each other.”

Dr. Wells continued to look at him. Then, he grunted, put the tablet down, and leaned on his desk with his hands. “So, you saw—?”

“Yes.”

He grunted again. “Well, there’s really no point in denying it, then, is there? It’s true: Cisco Ramon and I _have_ been involved in an intimate relationship for the last several months.”

Again, Ronnie’s stomach was clenching. He’d been expecting Dr. Wells to at least _try_ to deny it, so this sudden confession was throwing him for a loop.

Dr. Wells shrugged one shoulder. “In retrospect, I should have realized that we were going to get caught if we kept fooling around at work. We got…careless. Oh, well.” He cleared his throat. “With that said: I’ll thank you _not_ to accuse me of only hiring Cisco because I was attracted to him. Because _that_ implies that he’s not actually qualified for his job, and he couldn’t have gotten where he is today by virtue of his own hard work and natural talents.” He gave Ronnie a look of contempt. “Surely you can understand how insulting that is?”

“Surely _you_ can understand how wrong it is for you to sleep with one of your employees?” Ronnie snapped, deliberately mocking the man’s choice of words.

“I’ll also thank you not to make crude comments,” Dr. Wells said, folding his arms across his chest. “Yes, it was inappropriate for me to express my affection while we were here at the labs, even though I thought that we were alone. That was my mistake; I’ll own up to it. But my lapse in judgement doesn’t give _you_ a free pass to act unprofessionally.”

Ronnie bit back a scream of aggravation. Why…_how_ was Dr. Wells acting like Ronnie was the one in the wrong? How could he try to turn things around like that?!

“Anyway, as I’m sure you—_and your fiancée_—are aware, S.T.A.R. Labs does not have policies against employee fraternization,” Dr. Wells continued. “I’ve never thought that those kinds of rules were necessary, especially since everyone who works here is over the age of 18. I don’t particularly care what my employees do in their free time, provided that it doesn’t reflect poorly on the company, and it doesn’t interfere with their work.” He gave Ronnie another sharp look. “And in return…I expect the same courtesy from my employees.”

“This isn’t about Cisco dating one of his co-workers, and you know it!” Ronnie snarled. “You’re our _boss_! You _run_ S.T.A.R. Labs!”

“Oh, so you _are_ aware that this is my company?” Dr. Wells quipped. “With the way you’re speaking to me right now, I was worried that you’d forgotten.” And even though he hadn’t said anything directly threatening, his tone was a warning.

_So it’s like that, then?_ Ronnie thought to himself. His expression hardened even more; unfortunately for Dr. Wells, he didn’t scare easily. “You know…I never believed the rumors about you and Hartley,” Ronnie said. “I assumed…I always told myself that you wouldn’t _do_ that. That you weren’t _like_ that. But now that I know about you and Cisco…” He shook his head. “Is that the _real_ reason that you fired Hartley? Because you got tired of him? Or hell, maybe he didn’t want to play anymore, and you were worried he’d run his mouth?”

“Again with the baseless accusations,” Dr. Wells said, rolling his eyes. “I understand that you’re upset, Ronnie, but my patience is wearing incredibly thin.”

There was a chair next to Ronnie. For a wild moment, he thought about grabbing it and throwing it directly at Dr. Wells’ head. _That_ would wreck the man’s calm expression. _That_ would get his attention!

He didn’t get a chance to, though, because suddenly, Cisco came running into the room. His sneakers squeaked on the floor as he skidded to a stop. “Ronnie, what the hell?!” Cisco said, his voice frantic. “You said you were going to your department’s workroom. Why are you…_what_ are you doing in here?”

“Mr. Raymond doesn’t approve of our relationship,” Dr. Wells said shortly, before Ronnie could speak for himself (or express frustration that Cisco hadn’t followed his instructions). “He’s made that abundantly clear. He also seems to think that I’m some kind of fiend or pervert who’s forcing you to do things against your will.” He wet his lips. “Perhaps _you_ could assuage his concerns? Clearly, I’m not getting through to him.”

“Yeah, yeah—I’ll talk to him,” Cisco said. He had a pained expression on his face. “Just...don’t…don’t be mad. At either of us. Please?”

Dr. Wells huffed a breath. Finally, he said, “Both of you: get out of my office. _Now._”

Ronnie glared at him, half-daring Dr. Wells to call security and have him removed by force. But then Cisco wrapped his hand around Ronnie’s wrist and began tugging him the direction of the hallway. Feeling a bit like he was being led around by a toddler, Ronnie allowed himself to be pulled.

Once they were away from the Cortex—and, presumably out of Dr. Wells’ range of hearing—Ronnie opened his mouth again: “Cisco, this isn’t right. He’s taking advantage of you.”

Cisco released Ronnie’s arm and then turned to look at him. “No, Ronnie, he _isn’t_,” he replied, sounding exhausted. “I’m an adult. I can decide who I want to date. You _do_ trust me to make my own decisions, right?”

“Yes, I do, but—”

“Listen: I’m happy with him. I love him. And he loves _me_. Yeah, maybe it’s kinda weird that he’s so much older than me, but…” He laughed weakly. “Other than that, we’re just a normal couple. I swear.”

Ronnie groaned. “Cisco, _nothing_ about this is normal! It’s inappropriate, it’s predatory…if nothing’s wrong with you two dating, then _why_ does it have to be a secret?!” 

“Gee—maybe because we’re trying to _avoid_ negative reactions?! Y_ou’re_ not exactly taking this super well!” Cisco snarled.

At that point, Ronnie was ready to throw a chair at _Cisco’s_ head. Maybe _that_ would snap him out of this bizarre mindset he seemed to have. “So, what, you just sneak around forever, then? He’s worried about what people will think, so he treats you like his dirty little secret?”

“No, no—we’re going public in January!” Cisco said. “Once the particle accelerator is up and running…once everything calms down…we’re going to start telling people the truth. He promised me.”

“And then what?” Ronnie said.

Cisco squinted at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what comes after you two tell the world that you’re dating?” Ronnie said. “Do you think that Dr. Wells is going to _marry you_, or something?”

“I…of course not,” Cisco said, looking down at his shoes. He sounded hurt. “I _know_ that we can’t get married. Not in Missouri, anyway.”

Ronnie immediately regretted his word choice. “That’s not what I meant,” he groaned. “I just…Cisco, do you honestly think that you two have a future together?” _That he’s not going to get bored and replace you_, he thought, though he didn’t say it out loud.

“I don’t know! Maybe?!” Cisco snapped, throwing his arms into the air in aggravation. “Is that _really_ so crazy to imagine?! Is it really so hard to believe that maybe, just maybe, I finally found someone who loves me?!”

“HOW CAN YOU NOT SEE HOW SCREWED UP THIS IS?! WHAT IS _WRONG_ WITH YOU?!” Ronnie yelled, before he could stop himself. 

Cisco flinched. Then, his face twisted into a scowl, one that was so severe that Ronnie actually took a step backwards. “_‘What’s wrong with me?’_ Well, isn’t that just the million dollar question? If you figure out the answer, be sure to let my parents in on it, since God knows they’ve been asking me that since I was a kid. See, I have this bizarre idea that I’m allowed to _not_ feel like crap. Crazy, right? I can only ask for your patience.”

_Shit_, Ronnie thought to himself. With that mention of Cisco’s family, he realized he’d stepped on a landmine. Odds were now very, very good that this whole conversation was about to blow up in his face. “I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t have said that. There’s nothing _wrong_ with you, Cisco. And you _do_ deserve to be happy. But—”

“But only if it’s with someone you approve of, right? I’m allowed to be happy, as long as I just do what everyone else thinks is best for me. That’s it, isn’t it?” Cisco laughed hollowly. “Okay. Cool. Hey, maybe _someday_, people will just let me live my goddamn life without telling me I’m doing everything wrong. _That_ would sure be real fuckin’ neat-o…”

“That’s not—”

“Go home, Ronnie,” Cisco said, balling hands into fists. “I’m going to go back into the Cortex and tell Dr. Wells that I’m not sure I convinced you that he’s not some dirty old man. I’m really hoping I did, though. I’m hoping that you weren’t lying when you said you trusted me.”

“I wasn’t lying; I just—”

“Don’t tell anyone about this,” Cisco snapped, and unlike earlier, it was a command, not a plea. “If we’re friends…if you really want me to be happy…then just leave it alone. Leave _me_ alone.”

“Cisco—”

_“Leave me alone!” _Cisco yelled at him. He then turned around and stormed off towards the Cortex, his footsteps echoing through the empty hallways.

Ronnie stood there for a few seconds. Finally, he turned in the opposite direction and walked towards the elevators, away from Cisco, Dr. Wells, and the distressing secret he’d stumbled upon.

***

Ronnie drove back to his and Caitlin’s apartment on auto-pilot. His head was swimming so badly that, when he parked in his designated space in the building’s private lot, he realized that he didn’t remember anything about the trip. It really was a miracle that he hadn’t wrecked his car or hit any pedestrians between S.T.A.R. Labs and home.

(He checked the vehicle for damage, just in case, and was relieved to find none.)

The moment he walked through the door, Caitlin noticed that something was amiss. She was lying on the couch, watching an episode of _Downton Abbey_ on-demand, but when her eyes settled on her fiancé, she grabbed the remote and hit ‘Pause.’ “What’s wrong?” she asked, frowning in concern.

_ **“Don’t tell anyone about this. If we’re friends…if you really want me to be happy…then just leave it alone.”** _

“Nothing’s wrong,” Ronnie lied, even though he didn’t like to keep secrets from Caitlin.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “I mean, you took an extra-long time to get home after you texted me, so I was actually starting to get a little worried. And…you _look_ like something’s bothering you.”

“Really, it’s nothing, Cait,” Ronnie replied. Guilt twisted in his gut. “I’m just tired, is all. That’s why it took a while for me to get home—I was trying to be careful.”

She gave him a small smile. “I’m pretty sure _everyone_ at S.T.A.R. Labs is tired right now. Me, included. If you want to go to bed early, I’ll meet you in there as soon as this is over.” She turned back to the TV. “There’s only 20 minutes left in this episode.”

“Gotta get caught up before the new season starts, right?” he said good-naturedly.

“Well, it’s a British show, so technically, it’d be the new _series_,” she replied, matching his playful tone.

“Right, right—it’s a ‘crisps’ and ‘chips’ thing, isn’t it?” Ronnie said. “And…yeah, I think I’ll just head to bed. See you in a bit.”

“Sure thing,” Caitlin said. She turned back to the TV and hit ‘Pause’ again, starting up the action once more. Ronnie, meanwhile, walked to their bedroom.

He hadn’t been lying about feeling exhausted. His conversation—if you could even call it that—with Cisco and Dr. Wells had completely worn him out, especially because he kept replaying everything in his mind. His own accusations, Cisco’s embarrassment and aggravation, Dr. Wells’ unflappable calm…he kept trying to figure out what he could have said or done differently to create a better outcome. He wished he hadn’t lost his temper with Cisco. He also wished that he had given himself a minute to calm down rather than jump into the fray half-cocked. 

More than anything else, though, he wished that he’d resisted the urge to peek into the workroom. Or, better yet, he hadn’t forgotten his damn phone in the first place. There was no real reason for him to have been at S.T.A.R. Labs so late, especially after he’d already left for the day. Finding out about those two was a total fluke, but now, he was burdened with the knowledge, whether he wanted it or not.

As he undressed and brushed his teeth, he wondered, seriously, if he should tell Caitlin the real reason it had taken him so long to get home. Cisco had ordered him not to, of course, but Caitlin was one of the most level-headed people Ronnie knew. She would be able to offer him good advice, whether that advice was to keep the secret because Cisco and Dr. Wells were both adults and they weren’t doing anything illegal, or to spill the secret because something not being illegal didn’t automatically make it acceptable.

He was still mulling all of this over when he got into bed. Eventually, Caitlin joined him, brushing her teeth and slipping on a nightgown before climbing into bed and situating herself into his warmth. Though she guided his arm to her waist and leaned back against his chest, she didn’t really do anything to suggest that she was in the mood to make love.

(For once, Ronnie was actually grateful for that. He was so distracted that he might not have been able to get it up.)

By that point, the only decision he’d made was that he would keep the secret for now. Caitlin, like nearly everyone at S.T.A.R. Labs, held Harrison Wells in incredibly high regard. How, exactly, was Ronnie supposed to tell her that he’d walked in on the man groping one of their co-workers? That Dr. Wells apparently felt no ethical qualms about being “_involved in an intimate relationship_” with one of his employees? The information would almost certainly devastate Caitlin, and Ronnie wasn’t looking forward to shattering her image of their “beloved” boss. 

“Ronnie, are you really okay?” Caitlin asked softly, like she didn’t want to wake him if he was already asleep. And maybe she was worried about annoying him with her persistence, as well.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he answered back, kissing her head and momentarily losing himself in the scent of her hair. That smell never failed to help him relax when he was on edge.

“Alright,” Caitlin remarked. She shifted her weight. “How does pancakes sound for breakfast tomorrow?”

“Sounds great,” Ronnie said. He adored Caitlin, probably more than she would ever understand. More than he could ever express in words, anyway. And, for that reason, he couldn’t bring himself to burden her with a distressing secret. At least not now. At least not that weekend, when they were supposed to be focusing on each other. 

***

On Tuesday afternoon, Ronnie found Cisco eating lunch by himself in the mechanical engineering workroom. He’d gone to look for Cisco after Cisco hadn’t shown up at their usual lunch spot in the employee cafeteria; since Caitlin was currently in a meeting with the rest of her department, he figured that it would be as good a time as ever for them to catch up.

“Hey,” he said as he stood by the workroom entrance. “Can I join you?”

“Oh…uh…sure,” Cisco said, seeming a bit startled to see him. He shuffled some of his stuff around, presumably to make space. “Sorry, I shoulda texted you to tell you that I wouldn’t be in the caf. I just…I felt like I needed some quiet.”

“It’s fine,” Ronnie said as he entered the room and sat down. “No worries.”

“Okay.” After hesitating for a second, Cisco said, “Did you have a good weekend?”

“I did, actually,” Ronnie said. “I mean, Caitlin and I didn’t go anywhere, but it was a nice little staycation. You?”

“Yeah, yeah, it was fine,” Cisco replied briskly. “I had dinner with my family on Saturday, and that didn’t suck as much as it usually does. It was my great-grandmother’s birthday party; she’s 95, and she reached the point of giving zero fucks a little while ago.” He smiled. “That means that she doesn’t let me and Dante pick at each other. If we start getting ugly, she just tells us both to shut up and stop wasting the limited time that she has left on this earth. Ya know, as if she’s _not_ going to outlive us all.” He let out a soft laugh. “She tried to coax me and my cousins into doing tequila shots with her at the party, if you can believe that.”

Ronnie laughed, too. “Nice.”

Once the laughter died down, though, an awkward pause followed. After sitting in silence for a few seconds, Ronnie decided that he would just bite the bullet and bring up the topic that was hanging over both of their heads. As Cisco took a sip of his soda, Ronnie said, “Look, about what happened on Friday—”

Cisco groaned, putting down his cup. “Ronnie, we are _not_ having this conversation.”

“I’m just worried about you,” Ronnie said.

Cisco opened his mouth, like he was getting ready to argue. But then he stopped and exhaled. “Ronnie, can I…can I show you something?”

“Uh…yeah, you can,” Ronnie replied.

Permission granted, Cisco reached into the pocket of his jeans, pulled out what look like a small wad of brightly-colored paper and foil, and handed it to Ronnie. Upon closer inspection, Ronnie realized that it was actually the packaging for some kind of soft candy. At least, he _assumed_ that it was candy; he couldn’t tell _exactly_ what it was because everything on the package was in Japanese. He didn’t recognize the brand or logo, either, though the wrapper was decorated with a drawing of a smiling, cartoon dog with bright yellow fur.

“What’s this?” Ronnie asked dully.

“Do you remember Gadzooka bubble gum?”

Ronnie laughed, though it was mostly in confusion. “Uh…yeah? I think so. I remember the commercials, at least. But they don’t make that stuff anymore, do they?” Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen Gadzooka on the shelves.

“Yeah, the company that made it went under back in the 90s. But…when I was a kid, it was my _favorite_ kind of gum—I was always begging my mom to buy it when we were at the grocery store.”

“…Okay?” Ronnie said. He had no idea why Cisco was telling him this.

Cisco gestured to the candy package in Ronnie’s hand. “That stuff’s called ‘Ureshii Smile.’ It’s a brand of gum from Japan—you can’t buy it in American stores; you have to import it. And, coincidentally…their yuzu flavor is a _great_ dupe for Gadzooka. It’s a tiny bit more sour, but it’s the closest I’ve ever tasted.” He took the package back from Ronnie. “Dr. Wells got this for me. He ordered it and had it shipped all the way over here.”

Ronnie sighed. “Cisco—”

“I only mentioned Gadzooka to him once,” Cisco plunged on, as if Ronnie hadn’t said anything. “And, like, it was in passing a couple months ago. It wasn’t a serious conversation at all; I don’t even remember what we were talking about or why I said it. But a week ago, Dr. Wells was at a party at some investor’s house, and the hostess mentioned trying Ureshii Smile the last time she was in Tokyo, and how it reminded her of Gadzooka.” He smiled weakly. “Not only did he _remember_ that I like Gadzooka, but he immediately bought a case of _this_ stuff—” he gestured to the gum package again, “—just so that I could try it.”

“That’s…that was nice of him,” Ronnie said carefully. He now understood why Cisco had brought it up, but he was uncomfortable nonetheless.

“Ronnie…my parents can’t remember that I don’t like onions in my food—or, if they do remember, they don’t think it’s important,” Cisco said. His voice had grown heavy. “And…the last person I dated made me sick more than once because she kept forgetting that I’m allergic to bananas.”

“Caitlin and I know that you’re allergic to bananas,” Ronnie commented, just because he wasn’t sure what else to say.

“Yeah, I know you two do, because you both actually care about me,” Cisco said, and hearing him say that was more of a relief than Ronnie expected it to be. “But…look, Dr. Wells just…he _does_ things like that. He remembers that I like Gadzooka gum. He knows that I sleep on a satin pillowcase to keep my hair healthy. And…he’s always telling me how smart and important I am, even when I don’t believe it. _Especially_ when I don’t believe it.” He sighed. “Look, I get that you’re worried about me. And…yeah, I can see how things may look bad from where you’re standing. But I’m not kidding when I say he loves me. He makes me happy. Happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

Ronnie bit the inside of his lip. He still wasn’t okay with the idea of Cisco being with Dr. Wells; it still seemed weird and predatory to him. But…was it possible that Dr. Wells _actually_ loved Cisco? That this wasn’t just a weird power thing, or him getting a kick out of sleeping with someone young enough to be his son? 

If Ronnie had peeked into the workroom just in time to see Dr. Wells hitting or choking Cisco, then no amount of mitigating or pleading on Cisco’s part would’ve convinced him to keep it a secret. He might have just turned around and called the cops immediately—let _them_ sort it out, and officially put Wells on notice that, even if Cisco would tolerate abuse, Ronnie wouldn’t. All he’d seen, though, was an embrace. Maybe a sensual one, but…an embrace. He’d almost certainly done the same thing to Caitlin on several occasions.

_ **“We’re just a normal couple.”** _

** _“He makes me happy. Happier than I’ve been in a long time.”_ **

** _“Just leave it alone.”_ **

“Alright, look: I’m not going to tell anyone about you two,” Ronnie said finally. “I mean…okay, if Caitlin figures it out herself and asks me, I won’t lie to her. But other than that…I won’t say anything. And…I’ll...I’ll _try_ to keep an open mind.”

Cisco smiled, relief clear in his eyes. “Thanks, Ronnie. You’re a good friend.”

Ronnie wasn’t sure about that. Maybe being a good friend meant going against someone’s wishes in order to keep them safe. But did Cisco _need_ to be saved? Did he really, truly _need_ to be saved?

***

Ronnie was hoping to avoid being alone with Dr. Wells that day; one awkward conversation regarding the man’s relationship with Cisco was enough for one afternoon. Unfortunately, that wasn’t in the cards. A blueprint that should have been approved the week before had apparently fallen through the cracks, and, as chief structural engineer on the particle accelerator project, Ronnie was tasked with taking the paperwork to Dr. Wells directly so that the process could be expedited.

The entire time he was walking to the Cortex, dread was pooling in his stomach, and Ronnie silently prayed that Dr. Wells would already be talking to someone (either on the phone or in-person) when he got there. That way, Ronnie could simply hand the folder to him (or place it on his desk) and then beat a hasty retreat. Better yet, if the door was closed, he could just slide it through the gap between the door and the floor and then bolt—no one would die if the forms weren’t approved until the next day. But luck was not on his side, as the door to the Cortex _was_ hanging open, and Dr. Wells was simply sitting behind his desk with his tablet in his hand.

_Here I go again,_ Ronnie thought to himself grimly. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door frame to alert Dr. Wells to his presence.

Dr. Wells looked up from the tablet. When he saw who was knocking, he raised his eyebrows. “Did you need something, Ronnie?” he asked. There was a slight edge to his voice. No doubt he remembered that, the last time he’d said those words to Ronnie, Ronnie had responded by accusing him of “casting couch” shenanigans. 

“These need your approval,” Ronnie said, approaching him and handing over the papers. “If you’re busy right now, I can come back for them later.”

“No, stay put. I’ll look them over right now,” Dr. Wells said, already scanning the documents.

Still feeling uncomfortable, Ronnie glanced around Dr. Wells’ office. Nothing seemed out of place, although, for the first time, he noticed an LED banner that had been attached to one wall. It was counting down days, hours, minutes, and seconds, and it took Ronnie a moment to figure out that it was showing the amount of time left before the particle accelerator was scheduled to go online. The whole thing seemed a little tacky for Dr. Wells, who (as far as Ronnie could tell) preferred clean, modern lines and unobtrusive tech when it came to interior design. Ronnie couldn’t help but wonder if Cisco had picked it out, presumably because it reminded him of the TV show _24_—or some other action-packed media franchise_._

“Things got a bit heated on Friday, didn’t they?” Dr. Wells said suddenly, breaking the silence between them.

Ronnie turned to look at him. The man’s eyes were serious—and maybe a bit sad—behind his glasses. “Sorry, what?” Ronnie said, just because he’d caught him off-guard.

“I think that, when you came in here to speak to me on Friday evening, we both got a little…agitated. I know I said some things that I wish I hadn’t.” Dr. Wells smiled sheepishly. “I’d like to apologize for that, just to clear the air.”

Ronnie caught his drift. He also got the feeling that Dr. Wells was expecting him to apologize for what he’d said, too, but he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to. “I…yeah, I was…angry. But only because I was worried. Things looked really bad.”

“I know. And I’m sorry that we put you in an uncomfortable position.” Dr. Wells sighed. “Ronnie, it may be hard to believe, but…my feelings are true. I don’t expect for you to understand, let alone be okay with it. But…perhaps you could just give me the benefit of the doubt?” He smiled weakly again. “Let me prove that I’m not the villain you think I am?”

“I…I could probably do that,” Ronnie murmured. They’d been speaking cryptically this whole time, just in case someone overheard their conversation from the hallway or barged into the Cortex unannounced, but Ronnie dared to add, “For Cisco. Because he deserves to be happy.”

Dr. Wells chuckled. “Is this the part where you warn me that if I break his heart, you’ll break my neck?”

“I dunno, am I allowed to say things like that to my boss?” Ronnie then paused, frowning, because he abruptly remembered why what Dr. Wells had just said sounded so familiar. “Wait, you’ve seen _The Fast and The Furious_?”

“My pop culture horizons have expanded considerably in the last few months—no prizes for guessing why.” Dr. Wells said. “And, to answer your question, you’re allowed to say things like that to your boss when he deserves to hear them. So, in this case…yes. And I accept your terms.”

“…Okay,” Ronnie said, hoping that he sounded more confident than he felt.

“Okay,” Dr. Wells echoed. Then, as Ronnie watched, he gave the papers one final glance, then took a pen off of his desk and signed them with a flourish. “There we go.” He handed them back. “Was there anything else?”

“No, I guess not,” Ronnie said after a moment’s hesitation. He felt like there _were_ still things left unsaid, but he wasn’t sure how to articulate it all. Maybe he could talk to Cisco later for further reassurance that things were ‘okay.’

“Well, then, I won’t keep you any longer,” Dr. Wells said, going back to his tablet. “I’ll probably swing by your department sometime soon—maybe not today, but certainly in the next few days.” It was clear from his tone that Ronnie was being dismissed. 

“Right. Sounds like a plan,” Ronnie said. As he turned to walk out of the Cortex, his eyes fell on the electronic banner once more, the one that was counting down until the particle accelerator activation date. “Is that new?” he asked.

Dr. Wells grinned at him. “It is. I just had it installed this morning. Nothing like a massive, glaring timer to keep me motivated, right?”

“I’m just happy you didn’t put it in the break room or the employee cafeteria,” Ronnie said, and he couldn’t stop the smile that crossed his face. It seemed a little strange to be laughing and joking with Dr. Wells once again, considering how upset Ronnie had been with him recently. Maybe things _were_ okay, after all?

“Of course not. I’m not _that much_ of a hard-ass,” Dr. Wells replied smoothly, and he chuckled as Ronnie laughed. “Still, it _is_ a bit strange to think that, in a little less than two months, we’re going to change the world.” He tightened his grip on his tablet and flashed Ronnie that charismatic, devil-may-care grin that always charmed journalists and investors. “Mark my words, Mr. Raymond: 2014 is going to be the year that everything changes. For _all_ of us.”

_ **“We’re going public in January! Once the particle accelerator is up and running…once everything calms down…we’re going to start telling people the truth. He promised me.”** _

Cisco’s voice, full of frustration and anxiety, dashed through Ronnie’s mind. Ronnie took a deep breath and fought the urge to remind Dr. Wells of the promise the man had apparently made. “Yeah. Yeah, I think you’re right. I’ll see you later, Dr. Wells.”

As he walked back to the structural engineering department, Ronnie contemplated the future. Yes, 2014 promised to be an interesting year. He just hoped that he wouldn’t find himself regretting his decision to keep Dr. Wells and Cisco’s secret under wraps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Ronnie 2020**! C’mon, _Flash_ writers, PLEASE bring him back!
> 
> So, yeah, I know: if I was going to make folks wait so long for an update, the _least_ I could have done was include some smut--just as a courtesy. Sorry about that. But the good news is that the next chapter IS already about ⅔ of the way written, and Chapter 4 will _definitely_ contain smut. Hopefully, I’ll have it up sooner rather than later.
> 
> (I realize that that last little bit probably sounds super familiar to people who kept up with _Cisco’s Wonderful Life of Doom_. Hey, I’m nothing if not consistent!)
> 
> As always, if you read this far, please, PLEASE consider writing a quick comment, since nothing quite makes me smile more than getting that little notification email from AO3. And feel free to hit me up on Tumblr, too: [christineWIPmachine](https://christinewipmachine.tumblr.com/) is my fanworks blog, while [ChristineQuizMachine](https://christinequizmachine.tumblr.com/) is my personal/general blog.


	4. June 2014

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again: returning readers, please mind the tags; they may have changed since your last visit.

Dr. Wells picked up on the third ring. “Cisco?” he asked, like he couldn’t believe the name that had shown up on his Caller ID.

“Yeah, it’s…it’s me,” Cisco said, sniffling. He knew he sounded pathetic, and he hated himself for it. More than he already did, anyway. “I’m sorry; I know it’s late.”

“It’s alright, I was still awake. Is something wrong?”

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean…” He bit down on his lip. This had been a mistake. He had no right to call Dr. Wells at 9:52 on a Saturday night. Maybe he had once, but those days were long over. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

“Cisco, are you safe right now?” Dr. Wells said patiently.

“Y-yes.”

“Where are you?”

“Downtown. I was at a club, but I walked away, and I think I’m about a mile from my car by now.”

“Call a cab and have them take you to my place,” Dr. Wells said. “Whatever the problem is, we’ll work it out together. But I don’t want you driving right now.”

“You don’t have to…I can…it’s not a big deal…” Cisco rambled.

“Cisco. Call a cab. I’ll foot the bill for the ride if that’s what you’re concerned about.” His tone had changed; it was now the firm, authoritative voice that he used while they were at the labs—and, in another life, when they were in bed together, with Cisco’s arms bound or his eyes covered. It was a voice that promised care and guidance in exchange for obedience. It also left absolutely no room for argument.

And so, 30 minutes later, Cisco was sitting on a couch in Dr. Wells’ living room. He hadn’t been to that house in months, and he’d never felt so out of place there. He’d also calmed down enough to be embarrassed at how he’d been acting earlier.

Still, Dr. Wells wouldn’t let the matter drop. As he handed Cisco a cup of water, he said, “Tell me what happened.”

“It’s dumb. I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have called you,” Cisco said, clutching the cup in his fingers and looking at his feet. “Especially since we—”

“Cisco. _Tell me what happened._”

Cisco swallowed. “I found out that my boyfriend’s cheating on me.”

For a moment, they were both silent. The quiet was almost suffocating, and Cisco found himself longing for the classical/operatic music that Dr. Wells often played over the stereo system to serve as background noise in his daily routine. 

“Oh. That’s…that’s unfortunate,” Dr. Wells said finally, gripping the armrests of his wheelchair. He paused, then said, “Which boyfriend was this, again?”

“The only one I’ve had in 2014,” Cisco said, and it came out sharper than he intended. He tried to rein in his irritation; none of this was Dr. Wells’ fault. “Bryce. He’s a little older than me, and he’s the lead singer for an AC/DC tribute band. We started dating back in March.”

“Ah, _him,_” Dr. Wells said. He pursed his lips. “Yes, I remember meeting him once.”

It had been a night when Cisco was working late and Bryce had come to S.T.A.R. Labs to pick him up. After Cisco had introduced Bryce to Caitlin and Dr. Wells, Bryce had looked down his nose at Dr. Wells—like nearly everyone else in Central City did these days—and slipped a hand into the back pocket of Cisco’s corduroys.

(Bryce hadn’t asked if Cisco and Wells had once been “a thing.” Cisco wasn’t sure if he would have told him the truth if he’d asked. But once they were at Bryce’s apartment, they’d barely gotten to his bedroom before Bryce had Cisco on his back. _“You like that, Sweetheart?”_ Bryce had murmured while he pounded into Cisco and pulled his hair, and through his lust-fueled haze, Cisco managed to whimper, _“Yes, yes, it feels so good.”_)

“You say you ‘found out’ he was cheating on you?” Dr. Wells said, snapping Cisco back to attention. “Are you sure it wasn’t just a misunderstanding?”

Cisco laughed bitterly. “I caught him red-handed. And by that, I mean that he was making out with his bass player, Red.”

“Oh. I see.” 

“He…the band had a gig tonight, and I told him that I couldn’t go because I had a family thing, but that got cancelled ’cuz my brother’s sick, so I thought I’d go to the show and surprise him. The people working at the venue know that I’m Bryce’s boyfriend since he plays there all the time, so they let me go backstage. And…” Cisco paused to take another drink of water. “Bryce and Red were all over each other.”

“Ah.” Dr. Wells frowned sympathetically.

“I tried to turn around and walk away, but they saw me, so I had to listen to Bryce’s excuses right then and there.” 

“I’m sorry. That must have been difficult. Especially since you were in public, so you couldn’t really make a scene.”

Cisco winced. “Uh…actually…I screamed that he was a bastard and splashed a thermos-load of lemon-ginger tea in his face. He tried to do the whole ‘this is just as much your fault as it is mine’ thing, and I kinda lost it.” Cisco smiled stiffly at the memory. “It’s a good thing the tea was only lukewarm instead of piping hot, or I probably would have gotten escorted out by security. Or arrested for assault.”

“What happened after that?”

“After I tea’d him, you mean?” Cisco leaned back against the couch. “He called me an overly-clingy psycho and said that he’d been planning on breaking up with me for weeks—he just hadn’t done it yet because he felt sorry for me.”

Dr. Wells raised his eyebrows. “He’s a 35-year-old man who plays at being a rock star but doesn’t even sing his own songs. If anyone in this situation deserves to be pitied, it’s him.”

Despite his misery, Cisco couldn’t help but laugh at that comment. “Yeah, I guess that’s one way of looking at it.” He shook his head. “I should have seen this coming. Things have been…tense…for a while now, but I thought we were just going through a rough patch.”

“Even if you weren’t getting along, that’s no excuse for him to be unfaithful.”

“I know. Just like I know that we were pretty bad for each other. We barely had anything in common.” He took another sip of water. “Listen, I’m sorry for—”

“If he was so wrong for you, then why were you with him in the first place?”

Cisco was caught off-guard by the question. He also wasn’t sure why Dr. Wells kept dismissing his attempts to release him from the conversation. Cisco’s love life wasn’t his problem anymore. “Uh, because I was lonely? I don’t exactly have admirers lined up around the block, Dr. Wells. Bryce was—”

“Harrison.”

Cisco stopped. “What?”

“We’re…it’s just us, Cisco. You can call me by my first name.”

“I didn’t know if that was still allowed.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

Heat was building up in Cisco’s eyes. _Don’t cry, you stupid baby,_ he thought to himself as he looked away from Dr. Wells—_Harrison_. “Because you’re my boss. I’m your employee. You made it pretty clear that you don’t…that that’s _all_ we are now.” He set his water cup on the floor.

“That doesn’t mean that I don’t care about you.”

“But not the way you used to, right?” Cisco said, before he stop himself. He also couldn’t stop the tears that were now leaking out of him.

Harrison was quiet for a second. Then, he exhaled, sounding tired. “Cisco—”

“I’m sorry,” Cisco interrupted. He felt a little sick to his stomach, and he swiped at his face with his forearm. “That was…I know you don’t _owe_ me anything. People break up all the time. It’s okay that you don’t love me anymore; I just need to get over you.”

“Is _that_ what you think?” Harrison said. “You think I don’t love you anymore?”

Cisco squeezed the couch cushion in his fingers. “You told me that you didn’t want to be with me. That I should find someone else.”

“Yes, but—”

“‘But’ nothing!” Cisco snapped, standing up. Despite his best efforts, he was crying in full now. “It’s over! _We’re_ over! What’s the point of talking about it?!” Harrison was 6 feet tall; before the accident, he’d towered over Cisco. Now, the man’s head didn’t even come up to his shoulders, and Cisco could stand over _him_. Doing so didn’t make Cisco feel powerful, though. It just made him feel empty. 

It was a relief, then, that Harrison didn’t seem at all intimidated by Cisco looming in front of him. His eyes were penetrating and serious behind his glasses. “Cisco,” he said sharply, “sit down.” He was using that firm voice again, the one that had brought Cisco to his house earlier.

Cisco sat. What else could he do?

Harrison scooted towards him, grazing Cisco’s knees with his own. It took Cisco a second to register that Harrison probably hadn’t noticed the bump. But he didn’t have time to dwell on that, because the next thing he knew, Harrison’s hands were on his face, and the man was staring at him with an intensity that was like looking directly into the sun.

“I love you, Cisco Ramon,” Harrison said. Like it was obvious. Like he couldn’t believe that he was having to explain such a simple concept. “I have always…I never _stopped_ loving you. How could I, when you’re so precious?”

Cisco shook his head, though he wasn’t sure why.

“No, sweet boy—it’s true,” Harrison said patiently. “My feelings for you haven’t changed. Sometimes, at night, I think about having you back in my bed. Or at least back at my side, cheerful and smiling and always making me laugh. Making me feel happy. I don’t think I’ve been truly happy since we stopped seeing each other.”

“Then why’d you dump me?” Cisco managed to croak. He realized that he probably looked like garbage, with his hair rumpled and his face blotchy from crying. His nose was running, too. “I didn’t…it wasn’t my idea. _You_ told _me_ that it was over.”

Harrison sighed, still holding Cisco’s cheeks. “I thought I was being kind. At the time, I was still adjusting to the idea of being paralyzed. I had no idea what my limitations were; I didn’t know the kind of adjustments I’d have to make to my lifestyle. Honestly, I didn’t even know if I’d be able to continue to live independently.” He wiped Cisco’s tears away with his thumbs. “I pushed you away because I couldn’t stand the thought of you staying with me out of some sense of obligation. We’re not married, after all. You didn’t vow to stay with me ‘in sickness and in health.’”

Cisco’s head was pounding. Everything was happening so quickly that he could barely process it all. “I…I don’t feel ‘obligated,’” Cisco said. “I _love_ you. I _want_ to be with you. If you love me, too, then we should be together.”

Harrison swallowed, releasing Cisco’s face. “It’s not that simple.”

Cisco bit back a scream of frustration. “Things were _never_ simple between us! Even before the accident! We made it work, anyway!” He grabbed Harrison’s hands. “We can make _this_ work.”

“Cisco—”

“Please,” Cisco pleaded. “Can’t we…can’t we give it a try?”

Harrison looked at their joined hands, and he swallowed again. Then, he pulled back. In that moment, Cisco was certain that Harrison was going to reject him. He was going to assert that, despite what they say in movies, love isn’t always enough. Maybe he’d even add that Cisco wasn’t worth the trouble—because nobody _ever_ thought that Cisco was worth the trouble.

But finally, Harrison sighed, took his glasses off, and wiped his eyes. Then he looked up and said, “It’s late, Cisco. Let’s go to bed.”

Cisco, for his part, let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Harrison didn’t let Cisco watch him undress or climb into bed; apparently, he wasn’t quite ready for Cisco to see him like that. But Cisco didn’t mind. He made up an excuse about needing a minute to clear his head before he could do much of anything and simply waited in the master bathroom until he heard Harrison call out to him. After stripping down to his boxers, Cisco entered the bedroom. By then, Harrison was sitting among the linens, naked save for a throw blanket covering his lap.

(His lower body didn’t seem as atrophied as it should have been after six months of disuse. But Cisco wasn’t a doctor, so he really couldn’t make an assessment like that for sure. At the very least, he wasn’t going to say anything about it.) 

“I thought I might have scared you off,” Harrison murmured, a rueful smile on his face.

“I’m not scared,” Cisco lied, still standing a few feet away. Actually, he hadn’t been this apprehensive since the first time he and Harrison had spent the night together. 

“Then come here,” Harrison said. “Come to me, my Cisco.”

At some point in the last six months, he’d gotten a new bed. It was smaller, lower to the ground, and had bars on the headboard, presumably to help Harrison get in and out without the use of his legs. Overall, it seemed less imposing than the bed Harrison had owned previously, and Cisco had to admit that he actually didn’t mind the change. Still, when he climbed in next to Harrison, he felt the smoothness and softness of silk sheets on his bare skin, and he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at the uncanny familiarity of it all.

“What does that look mean?” Harrison asked kindly, and Cisco realized that he’d been making a face.

Cisco chose to laugh. “It means…it means I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m not sure I _ever_ know what I’m doing.” He paused; they were sitting so close together that Cisco could see the fine lines around Harrison’s eyes. “Maybe that’s why I screw up so often?”

“I think you underestimate yourself,” Harrison commented. He used his fingers to sweep some of Cisco’s hair away, like he was anticipating Cisco using it to try to hide from him. “But, I’ve found that, if you don’t _know_ what to do in a given situation…it might help to just trust your instincts. You need to do what _feels_ right. Does that make sense?”

Cisco didn’t answer. Or, rather, he didn’t answer with words, because his response was to press their mouths together hastily at the same time he threw his arms around the other man’s shoulders. And Harrison, to Cisco’s immense relief, wrapped Cisco in a hug, as well, and kissed him back, pushing his tongue past Cisco’s lips the same way he’d always done when they were together. The same way he _hadn’t_ done since that horrible day the previous December, when Harrison had told Cisco that he couldn’t _“do this”_ anymore.

Yes, sometimes, it _did_ pay to just go with your gut. Harrison had been right, as usual.

But if they were going to have sex, there were certain…logistical issues…that needed to be addressed. Cisco decided to broach the subject the next time they came up for air.

“Hey, can you…do you still…?” Cisco started, and he wasn’t sure the how to say it kindly. After the explosion, he’d done research on spinal injuries to try to figure out if Harrison would be able to get erections. His findings had been inconclusive; most sources had said that it differed from person to person and varied over time. And Harrison had ended things before Cisco had gotten a chance to ask him.

Fortunately, Harrison understood. “More often than not,” he replied. “It’s…trickier than it used to be, though. I might take a little longer to get ready. Then again, you’ve never had a problem turning me on, have you?”

“I don’t think you’ve ever complained,” Cisco said, nuzzling Harrison’s neck. “But…no pressure, alright? If it doesn’t happen tonight, we can try again later. And, like, we can always do other stuff. Or use toys. Or just—”

Harrison chuckled. “Slow down. If we’re both tense, we won’t get anywhere at all.”

“Sorry,” Cisco said. He nuzzled Harrison’s neck again. “What…what do you _want_ me to do?” The man’s scent was even better than he remembered. He would have been perfectly content to spend the whole night just cuddling and snuggling with him.

“I want for you to put it in your mouth,” Harrison said quietly. “I think…if you wouldn’t mind…”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.” Cisco planted a few kisses on Harrison’s jaw and then crouched down. “Can I move this?” he asked, gesturing to the blanket. “Or should I just go under and—?”

“Yes, move it. I want to watch you work.”

“Okay.”

Harrison was a grower, not a shower; it always struck Cisco as odd—almost funny—how something so small and soft could get big and hard enough to feel like it was rearranging his guts whenever it was inside him. His own cock, after all, didn’t seem to lengthen by much when he got hot and bothered, and he was pretty sure that none of the people he’d ever fucked had been left walking gingerly the next day as a direct result of the encounter.

Sure enough, Harrison’s dick was currently lying small and unassuming in his lap, looking just the way Cisco remembered it from their earlier encounters. To get things started, he stuck his tongue out and gave the cock a few tentative licks. 

“Ahhhh…” A sigh of satisfaction escaped from Harrison’s mouth, and his shoulders seemed to relax just a bit. That seemed promising. So promising, in fact, that Cisco closed his mouth over the tip. 

Harrison tasted (and smelled) clean; he’d probably bathed just before Cisco had called him, or maybe while he was waiting for Cisco to arrive at his house. Immediately, Cisco was self-conscious about his own personal grooming. He’d showered that morning, but he hadn’t anticipated having sex that night, so he hadn’t really cleaned himself out. Would Harrison be put off by—?

“Cisco. Focus,” Harrison said, bringing one hand up to the side of Cisco’s face. It wasn’t a reprimand so much as it was a gentle nudge.

Cisco nodded. _Right, right. Focus_. He could feel Harrison’s fingers in his hair and see Harrison’s chest rising and falling in time with his breathing and hear Harrison’s voice; they all combined to cut through the fog in his head and let him concentrate on the here and now.

“There we go, sweet boy.”

_Thank you_, Cisco thought, though he had the good sense to not talk with his mouth full. Instead, as a show of gratitude, he swallowed down a few more inches. He felt Harrison’s cock begin to fatten up against his tongue and he sucked hard; the way Harrison’s fingers immediately tightened around his hair seemed to be another affirmation that he was on the right track. 

The angle was weird. A bit uncomfortable, if he was being honest. Usually, when he did this, Harrison would either sit in a chair or on the edge of the bed, or he’d stand up with his back to the wall. Cisco, meanwhile, would get down on the floor with a pillow to cushion his knees. That arrangement made it easy for him use his hands in addition to his mouth. Tonight, though, he was crouching between Harrisons legs, bracing himself on his forearms and his knees. Next time—_There’s going to be a next time, right?_ he wondered—he’d show an ounce of foresight and start in a better position.

(The wheelchair was probably just the right height for blowjobs. Not that Cisco had fantasized about sucking Harrison off in that chair…more than once or twice.)

As Cisco slurped, the hand in his hair tightened again, sharp enough that Cisco’s scalp tingled. It was Harrison’s way of asking for more without saying a word. In response, Cisco slipped the whole thing into his mouth so that his nose was flush with the hair at the base, and he held it there for as long as he could stand it. When he was 18, a girl he went to school with had taught him that you could stifle your gag reflex by tucking your left thumb into your fist and squeezing, and he’d been relying on that trick to wow his boyfriends (and casual hookups) ever since.

Another sigh escaped from Harrison’s throat, and it made Cisco’s stomach flip-flop. _That_ sigh—one of utter contentment, one of released inhibitions—was seemingly reserved for the bedroom only. And this Harrison Wells, naked and wanton and totally unconcerned with maintaining his image as enigmatic and almost otherworldly, was one that _only_ Cisco got to see.

Eventually, the intrusion in his throat became too aggravating to ignore, and Cisco finally backed off, coughing and choking. A thick rope of spittle kept them connected for an additional second or two, like his body was desperate to stay in contact with Harrison by any means necessary. That same urge was probably why he’d barely caught his breath before he went to put Harrison’s cock back in his mouth, fully planning to take it balls-deep again.

“Stop.”

Cisco scrambled to obey, practically falling forward onto Harrison in his haste to sit up. “What…what is it?” he asked, hoping that the fear in his voice could be mistaken for an attempt to sound seductive. Maybe _this_ was it; maybe _this_ was the moment Harrison was going to tell Cisco that he’d come to his senses and Cisco needed to leave.

But then Harrison’s hands were at his hips, fingers plucking at the waistband of Cisco’s boxers. “Let’s get these off.” He didn’t sound uncertain or like he was questioning his decisions at all.

Relief flooded Cisco’s body. Again, he honored Harrison’s request without question, pulling off his underwear so quickly that he felt his fingernails scratching against his skin. The boxers he’d chosen that morning weren’t at all flashy or sexy, so Cisco didn’t even attempt to make the removal sensual. After he’d wriggled out of the garment and deposited it on the floor, he tried to slip back down again, but Harrison caught Cisco’s hips in his hands and held him in place.

“I expected as much,” Harrison murmured, glancing down between Cisco’s legs. There was an amused smile on his lips.

Cisco felt his face flush. Now that he was naked, it was impossible to hide the fact that his own cock had stiffened up, just in response to the way he was pleasuring Harrison. He wasn’t quite sure why he was embarrassed, though—his habit of “rising to the occasion” whenever he gave a partner head wasn’t exactly a new development. Maybe it was because, even after months apart, Harrison could still read him like a book?

Harrison seemed to sense his trepidation, because he relaxed his hold. “We’ll take care of that in a moment,” he remarked. “Once you’re finished.”

“Yeah, okay,” Cisco said. He crouched down again, resuming his previous position, and went back to work, heat building inside of him the whole time. He closed his eyes, trying to put more stock in his other sense.

It was a little while longer before Harrison broke the silence once more; Cisco had been pulling out every trick in his repertoire and was in the middle of humming with the cock as far back into his throat as he could handle without gagging when he heard Harrison say, “Look at me.”

“Hmmm?” Cisco managed to murmur, blinking. How long had he been at this, exactly? He’d lost his sense of time.

“Look at me,” Harrison said. “Don’t stop, but…look at me, Cisco.” After Cisco had fixed his gaze on him, he let out yet another sigh. The blue in his eyes had nearly been swallowed up by black. “You’re so beautiful. Will you let me finish like this?”

The request had just been a formality; they both knew how much Harrison liked cumming in Cisco’s mouth. Occasionally, he’d even say something dirty—tell Cisco in a deep, husky voice that he was going to give him a mouthful, or just laugh about how his “baby boy” was clearly thirsty. _“Now, now—you know better than to make a mess,”_ he had chastised once, when some of it had escaped from Cisco’s lips and dribbled down his chin. He’d then used his thumb to swipe away the fluid and deposit it onto Cisco’s tongue.

And _because_ the question was just a formality, Cisco didn’t even both nodding. He just maintained eye contact with him until Harrison finally groaned and let his scalp fall back against the headboard. At that point, Cisco closed his eyes and focused on the feeling of fullness in his mouth and the firmness of the hand in his hair until—

“Ahhhhh…”

Cisco swallowed every drop that Harrison gave him, grateful for the heat that coated his tongue and throat. And even when it was over, he didn’t release Harrison’s cock entirely, instead leaving the tip in his mouth and continuing to suck on it until Harrison gently pushed him off. He’d remembered what Harrison had said earlier about taking “_a little longer”_ than he used to, and though the man had been talking, specifically, about getting hard, Cisco didn’t want him to feel rushed in any aspect of their time together. 

“Cisco…my Cisco,” Harrison said, sighing again. A blush had bloomed on his face, neck, and chest, and he had an almost dreamy expression on his face.

Cisco hesitated for a moment, then climbed back into Harrison’s lap and buried his face in the crook of his neck once more. He could still taste Harrison in his mouth, and he felt drunk off of him. _I love you,_ he thought, his head spinning. _I love you, I love you, I love you…_

(He’d started seeing a therapist in January; his parents had insisted that it would help him, and he had felt like it would actually be nice to talk to someone about Ronnie dying and Caitlin losing her smile and nearly all of his co-workers leaving. He hadn’t told Dr. Mayberry about sleeping with Harrison Wells, but he’d let slip that he’d been involved in a “secret relationship” with “an older supervisor” at S.T.A.R. Labs, one that had ended right after the explosion. She’d told him that the relationship wasn’t healthy—something, something, “_issues with self-worth_” and _“attempts to fill an emotional void_._” _Cisco decided, right then and there in Harrison’s bed, that he was going to stop seeing her. Because she was one more person trying to stop him from doing something that made him truly, blissfully happy.)

A familiar, plastic-sounding _snap_ yanked Cisco back to the present. Harrison had seemingly produced a bottle of lube from thin air (he’d probably stashed it under the pillows while Cisco was in the bathroom) and was currently applying a small dollop of the stuff to the palm of his right hand. Cisco barely had time to process what was happening before Harrison’s slicked-up hand had closed around his cock, the other splaying against Cisco’s lower back to keep him steady while—

“Oooh,” Cisco murmured, writhing because it felt good—Christ, it felt _good_. But Harrison had always been great at handjobs, and the way he was currently gripping Cisco’s dick in those skilled fingers was proof-positive that his abilities hadn’t degraded at all from lack of use.

“There we go,” Harrison said. The hand on Cisco’s back moved to his ass and squeezed gently, like he was reacquainting himself with the warmth of Cisco’s flesh. Cisco half-expected (wanted?) to feel fingers slip inside of him, too, but the hand eventually returned to his hip, applying enough pressure that he was certain there’d be bruises dotting his skin in the morning.

The whole time Harrison was stroking his bottom and his side, he was pumping Cisco’s cock in his hand; while Cisco had worried about appearing impatient, Harrison didn’t seem to have the same reservations. But maybe _he’d_ been more worried about disappointing Cisco, and he had told himself that, if he could get Cisco off quickly, then it was proof that his “condition” didn’t need to be a deal-breaker between them.

_It never would have been, _Cisco thought, and—in the midst of his euphoria—a hard-to-identify emotion crept over him. It was an aggravating distraction, almost like someone was repeatedly jabbing him in the back with their finger while he was trying to work.

What _was_ he feeling, exactly? Sadness? Disappointment? Irritation? Was he _allowed_ to be irritated with Harrison? They’d wasted so much time apart when they could have been together, all because of some martyr complex. But if Harrison had honestly been convinced that he was doing Cisco a kindness, then it seemed selfish and ungrateful to— 

A rough, almost jerky twisting motion near Cisco’s balls yanked him back to attention. It was a little undercurrent of pain mingled in with the pleasure, one that was impossible to ignore. “Focus,” Harrison quipped for the second time that night.

Cisco nodded stiffly; once again, he’d been snapped out of his funk and could now concentrate on the here and now. And, damn, the here and now was so. Effing. _Great_. “Can…can I…?” he managed to mumble, holding out his hands.

“Of course you can.”

Cisco leaned forward just enough to place his hands on Harrison’s shoulders. Harrison had always hidden an impressive physique under his tailored dress shirts and designer suits; Cisco knew that he could spend hours stroking the man’s biceps or caressing his flat stomach. And there was something comforting about digging his fingers into firm planes of skin and muscle. It was just another thing grounding him, keeping him in the moment.

After another minute or two of stroking (he really had lost all sense of time), Harrison jerked on his balls again, making Cisco gasp. Harrison was usually so calm and methodical, but tonight, it was more about sharp edges and burning, scraping speed. As he pitched forward, so close to his lover that their foreheads were touching and they could share their breath, Cisco decided that being destroyed like a condemned building (so that the wreckage could be cleared and shiny, new condominiums could be built in its place) was what he needed. What they _both_ needed. 

“Let go, Cisco,” Harrison murmured. “I’m here. You can let go.”

For a second, he thought that Harrison was telling him to let go of his shoulders because he was squeezing him too hard. But then he realized that Harrison was giving him permission to cum. He wasn’t sure he wanted to, though. It felt like they’d only just begun.

Suddenly, Harrison’s lips were at his ear:“_Show me just how much you missed me.”_

_Well, fuck._ Seconds later, he was spilling all over Harrison’s fist. A mewling noise escaped from his mouth when it happened, and he would have been humiliated if it had happened in front of anyone else. And Harrison didn’t ease off until Cisco was whining in discomfort from oversensitivity, finally swiping at the slit of Cisco’s cock with his thumb a few more times before giving up the ghost.

“It’s alright,” Harrison said cryptically. His pupils were still blown wide, and between that and his sweat-tousled hair, he sounded quite a bit more calm than he looked.

“Yeah,” Cisco managed to reply. “Yeah, it…it is. Isn’t it?”

Harrison laughed at that—not like he was enjoying a joke at Cisco’s expense, but like they were both in on the gag, and the rest of the world was hopeless for not seeing what was so funny.

(One night, Harrison had held Cisco’s head in place with his hands and then fucked his mouth so hard that, by the time it was over, Cisco’s lip was split and his throat was absolutely aching. _“You shouldn’t have let me hurt you,”_ Harrison had said as he pressed a tissue to Cisco’s mouth to staunch the bleeding. _“You should have told me it was too much.”_ Cisco’s response had been to say that he “didn’t mind.” And he hadn’t been lying. Just as Harrison was willing to show Cisco this wild, unrestrained part of himself, Cisco was okay with Harrison seeing him be submissive and deferential. They complimented each other. They were perfect for each other. Nobody else could come close to what they had.)

After Cisco had caught his breath, he cleaned up the mess between them and on Harrison’s hands. The nightstand was well-stocked with a container of wet wipes and a bottle of hand sanitizer to help facilitate this. With Cisco finally out of his lap, Harrison settled into a comfortable position, stretched out nearly the entire length of the bed. Cisco, for his part, curled up next to him, taking care not to put his weight against the other man’s legs. They were both quiet for a few minutes, and Cisco was just getting the itch to ask what was on Harrison’s mind when he opened his mouth again:

“Cisco, I’m going to ask you a question, and I need for you to answer me honestly: did you and Bryce use protection every single time you had sex?”

Embarrassment made an unpleasant heat rise in Cisco’s cheeks. “No. I mean, we usually did, but…sometimes…we didn’t.” How could he have been so stupid? Looking back, he wasn’t sure _why_ he’d given in to Bryce’s requests to bareback him so easily (_“I don’t have a condom, but you don’t mind, right, sweetheart?”_). Maybe because he was trying to recapture the intimacy he’d once had with Harrison? Well, now that he knew the truth about Bryce and Red, he just felt gross. 

“It’s okay,” Harrison said smoothly. “I don’t hold it against you at all. But I do want for you to get tested for STIs. Who knows how many people Bryce _actually_ snuck around with behind your back?” He stroked Cisco’s hair. “Will you do that for me, please?”

“Yeah,” Cisco said. “I’ll call my doctor’s office on Monday.” He’d also call and cancel his appointment with Dr. Mayberry. Was there a formal process for firing your therapist? He’d have to do research on that. 

“Thank you. And that actually brings me to my next point,” Harrison continued. “In my current situation, I won’t always be able to…perform…the way I used to. And my level of desire _has_ gone down significantly. So, right now, I’m giving you permission to have sex with other people.”

Cisco was startled by this new development. “I don’t need—”

“Hush,” Harrison said, pressing his fingers to Cisco’s lips. “You have my permission. In fact, I encourage it. You’re 24 years old, which means that you’re in your prime. And I’ll be damned if I let you waste that.” He moved his hand so that he could tuck a lock of Cisco’s hair behind his ear. “As long as you’re safe about it, I do _not_ need for you to be faithful to me. Do you understand?”

“…Yes,” Cisco said, finally. He didn’t know whether or not he’d actually take him up on the offer. After all, he’d come here in the first place because Bryce had cheated on him. Wouldn’t it have been a bit ironic, then, for him to immediately dive into a non-monogamous ‘arrangement’ with Harrison? And anyway, he didn’t _want_ to sleep with anyone else. He didn’t need sex half as much as he needed Harrison’s love.

_Jesus Christ—let the guy breathe_, Cisco told himself abruptly. Bryce’s assertion that Cisco was an “overly-clingy psycho” had seemed pretty harsh, but maybe there’d been a grain of truth to it, after all? This was a chance for a fresh start, a chance for him to be more relaxed about…well, everything. If Harrison was concerned about a 20-something horn-dog wearing him out, then Cisco wouldn’t be a 20-something horn-dog. Or, at least, he’d just be one in private. 

“I suppose there are more things we need to talk about,” Harrison murmured. “But…I think they can wait until morning. Do you agree?”

“Yeah,” Cisco said. “Yeah, I think I just want to sleep now. It’s been a long day.”

Harrison laughed. Once again, it was a sound for Cisco—not _at_ him—and it made happiness surge through Cisco’s gut. “Yes, I imagine it has.” He touched Cisco’s forehead. “When I woke up this morning, this is _not_ how I thought that today was going to go.” He planted a kiss on the same spot. “But I can’t tell you how happy I am that it did.”

“I love you, Harrison,” Cisco blurted out, because he couldn’t wait any longer. He’d been saying it in his head since this whole encounter began, and he’d officially reached the point of desperation in wanting (needing?) to hear it back. 

Harrison gazed down at him. He always looked so much younger—and kinder—when he wasn’t wearing his glasses. “I love you, too, Cisco.” He fiddled with Cisco’s hair again. “I love you so very, very much.” 

A final knot of tension left Cisco’s shoulders. Almost everything in his life had gone to shit, but he had Harrison. He could do anything—_face_ anything—if they were together.

(He knew that the relationship would have to be a secret for now. They couldn’t…too much was up in the air, and Harrison was already a borderline pariah in Central City. Besides, Caitlin was still grieving for Ronnie, and it would have been cruel to rub his and Harrison’s happiness in her face.)

He was just wondering if it would be too much to throw in an, _“I love you, Daddy,”_ just for good measure, when he was interrupted by a musical chime trilling from the master bathroom. It was a snippet of the theme song for the original Pokémon games—his current cell phone ringtone.

“That’s my phone,” Cisco said sheepishly to Harrison’s confused expression. “I…I should probably at least see who it is.”

“Ah. I see.”

Gingerly, Cisco got out of bed and scurried over towards the bathroom. His phone was perched neatly on the countertop, along with his clothes—he’d taken care to fold everything up in anticipation of having to recycle his outfit the next morning. Cisco snatched up the phone, took one look at the display, and then snorted in disgust. “Whaddya know: it’s Bryce,” he said, loudly enough for Harrison to hear him in the bedroom.

“Oh.” After a moment’s pause, Harrison said, “Are you going to answer it?”

“No,” Cisco said. He hit ‘IGNORE’ with a little more force than was necessary, especially considering that Bryce would never see (or hear) the action. He walked back into the bedroom, set his phone to ‘Do Not Disturb,’ and laid it down on the nightstand as he climbed back into bed. “I have no idea why he’d be calling me. We’ve got nothing to talk about anymore.”

“Do you have any of his belongings at your apartment?” Harrison asked. “Maybe he wants them back.”

Cisco huffed a breath. “Yeah, well, _I_ just want for him to die.” He stopped; the venom of his words had begun to weigh him down the moment they left his mouth. “Wow, I…I didn’t mean that.”

“Yes, you did,” Harrison said patiently, wrapping his arms around Cisco once more. “But it’s okay for you to feel that way.”

“It is?” He’d always been told that you should never, ever wish death on anyone, just because you might tempt fate. That had never stopped him from feeling that way about certain people, though. It had just kept him from saying it out loud, lest others hear it and realize what a rotten person he was. 

“He hurt you. He lied to you. He violated your trust. Sometimes, that sort of thing _is_ necessary for the greater good. But in this situation…it absolutely was not.” Harrison held Cisco tighter. “Maybe death really _is_ what he deserves.”

Cisco exhaled. Harrison understood him. Harrison was the _only_ one who truly understood him. “Okay.”

“…My Cisco,” Harrison murmured to himself after another quiet lull. The words were so soft that Cisco could have imagined them.

_Your Cisco_, Cisco thought in response. He laid his head on Harrison’s chest and closed his eyes. The man’s heartbeat echoed in his ears and seemed to sink into his bones. It was his favorite lullaby of all—one he’d been missing for months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I’m Christine, and I will probably never, EVER try to write blowjobs + feelings ever again—that’s the main reason this chapter took so damn long to finish. I mean, I did take a few weeks off to work on that Quarantine Swap fic, but…good Lord, this was MUCH more difficult than I anticipated it being…
> 
> **Important Note:** At this point in the story, Eowells is an able-bodied person pretending to be disabled, and he’s deliberately leaning on stereotypes/misconceptions about disabled folks to better sell his act (and hide his true intentions and schemes). The whole trope of the “sad disabled person who pushes their loved one away because they don’t want to be an awful _burden_ on them” is actually pretty damn ableist. I wanted to make it clear, though, that the author (that’s me!) is AWARE of how offensive that trope is—this is simply Eowells, who is a bad guy, doing something bad. And Cisco falls for it because he’s a 24-year-old guy who has almost certainly seen that plotline played absolutely straight in countless movies and TV shows—he doesn’t really know any better. Once again: the attitudes expressed by Cisco and Eowells in this chapter do NOT reflect the views of the author!
> 
> As always, if you read this far, please, PLEASE consider writing a quick comment, since nothing quite makes me smile more than getting that little notification email from AO3! And feel free to hit me up on Tumblr, too: [christineWIPmachine](https://christinewipmachine.tumblr.com/) is my fanworks blog, while [ChristineQuizMachine](https://christinequizmachine.tumblr.com/) is my personal/general blog.


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